


Remembering the Butterflies

by wakeupstiles



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, Heartbreak, Major character death - Freeform, Post S2, Sorry Not Sorry, Tree Clan v Ice Nation, Wells is alive bc duh, and of course raven would follow her girlfriend into war, i mean this is sad, it's a war and of course octavia has to be in it, really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakeupstiles/pseuds/wakeupstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven would always remember her; the butterflies would never let her forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering the Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote another sad thing.
> 
> listen to the playlist: http://8tracks.com/reneewolf/never

They would follow each other anywhere, the whole world knew it. They went to hell for each other and conquered it many times. Came back broken, in pieces, but together and alive. They were a team, the Warrior and the Mechanic. Heart and Hands. Creator and Executioner. Spirit and Soul. They were two completely different women yet the fire within them burned the same, which was why when Octavia stated that she was going to fight in the war, Raven had exploded into a fit of irate tears and fists colliding with walls and equipment thrown across the room. Octavia fought back, of course she did; she was just as hotheaded as her girlfriend.

 _“We just got out of a war! And now you want to fight in another one?”_ Raven screamed furiously, banging her fist on the metal wall of her lab.

 _“There will always be another war and I’ll always be there to fight in it!”_ Octavia had argued back, her face just as hot and her breath coming out in quick, angry gasps.

 _“But why? Why does it have to be you?”_ Raven knew the answer though; Octavia was the embodiment of war itself, wild and unpredictable and free. If there was something worth fighting for then she would be the front runner for it, her machete blood thirsty at her side. Raven took a deep shaky breath, closed her eyes, leaned against the back of a lab table. _“I don’t want you to die. I couldn’t handle it.”_ She admitted softly, squeezing her eyes tighter when the sting of tears threatened to fall.

Octavia was silent, watching her girlfriend hunch her shoulders and avoid her eyes. She stepped up to her, raised her hands to comfort her, but dropped them because she _didn’t know what to do or what to say._ Because what Raven needed to hear right now was that Octavia was going to stay in Camp Jaha, that she would take a break. Not stop fighting forever; Octavia would never do that and Raven would never ask. Raven needed to hear that Octavia wouldn’t go off and fight in the war, that she wouldn’t go off and not have any communication with her for gods knew how long. Octavia couldn’t tell her any of that; she was a warrior. She would fight. She would win and survive or she would lose and die. She didn’t want to die, of course, but people died in war and she’d made peace with that long ago. Raven hadn’t, and Octavia understood why: she’d lost everyone she cared about up to this point, and she didn’t want to lose Octavia, too. The younger girl wished she could agree to stay, but she just didn’t work like that.

They both stayed silent for a few minutes, Raven with her head down, an iron grip on the table she was leaning against. Octavia stood in front of her, so close their chests nearly touching. She tried to search for the right words to say, but it was darker skinned girl who spoke first, _“Fine, then I’m coming with you.”_ Her voice was strong and sure. She looked up at her girlfriend, eyes unwavering, challenging her to argue.

Octavia’s gentle eyes turned hard. She took a step back and said in a harsh tone, _“No,”_

The dark haired girl shrugged, said simply, _“It’s not up for debate.”_ Like that was the end of the argument, and really she hoped that it was but she knew Octavia and the other girl would never let it go.

The tan woman grabbed her arm, gave it a squeeze. _“Raven, you can’t—“_

 _“I can’t what?”_ Raven snapped, twirling around and yanking her arm out of the woman’s grip. Her dark eyes began glistening with tears and Octavia’s mirrored them. _“I can’t fight in a war? I’ve been doing that since the first day I landed on this goddamn planet.”_ She laughed mockingly, then pointed down at the metal brace that covered her left leg. Then she said, as sharp as a knife, _“Do not give me excuses, Octavia Blake._ You _of all people should know better than that. You fight, I fight, that’s how it works.”_ Raven took her girlfriend’s hands, held them tightly, begged her silently to not argue, to just accept the fact that they were a war machine duo and whatever had to be done they would do _together._

Finally, defeated, Octavia sagged her shoulders and gave a tiny nod, squeezed Raven’s hands back in acknowledgement that she understood. _“Okay. I fight, you fight.”_

And that, regrettably, was the end of the conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

Five days later the two women found themselves locked in an all out battle. Octavia was down on the field, slashing her way through Ice Nation warriors along with the other Tree Clan Grounders. Raven was above them on the mountain, flat on her stomach with her finger ready on the trigger of her sniper. Many had fallen on both sides, but from the looks of it the Tree Clan was winning. Indra, Anya, the other Clan leaders had marched them into battle with Lexa leading the front, their swords and arrows drawn at the ready. It started bloody and it would end blood, too.

Raven kept her eye steady on Octavia, taking out any Grounders that went after her while she was engaged in battle with another. She looked away for one second, sniped an Ice Warrior in the head that Lincoln was having trouble with, then went back to Octavia, but she had moved positions. The woman was as quick as a snake, striking one and pouncing on another. It took a few seconds, but Raven found her in the mess of weapons clashing. Only she wasn’t standing; she was on her knees, her machete at her side, a bud of crimson blooming on her chest.

Raven’s heart stopped, an electric current rocked through her body. Before she had time to process anything she was on her feet, her gun strapped to her back, and heading towards the field. “Cover me.” She said to Wells as she passed him.

His head snapped around to her, his eyes wide. “Raven! Raven, you can’t go down there!” He shouted, his voice heavy with anxiety and fear.

She turned to him, a heavy, dark expression on her face. “Do you want to try and stop me?” She questioned darkly. He stayed silent, just watching her like a hawk. _“Fucking cover me.”_ And then she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

She got to her fallen warrior in seconds, Wells doing good to make sure she didn’t get a knife to the throat or an arrow to the back. When she reached Octavia she fell to her knees beside her, leaned over her as if she was a human shield for her. The brunette smiled up at her girlfriend, her eyes beginning to glass and her complexion starting to wan. “H-hey, there’s my girl.” She forced the words out, cringing from the pain spreading through her chest and across her ribcage.

Raven’s heart was pounding, her blood was boiling. “God _damn it,_ ” She hissed as she assessed the wound; she was no doctor, but even still she knew that it was bad. Worse, it was fatal. There were no medics on the sidelines—if you were fatally injured in battle then that was it, _your fight was over._ Raven couldn’t bare it being over.

“I’m okay.” Octavia gave a little nod of reassurance, though they both knew it was fake.

“There’s a—Octavia,”

“It doesn’t hurt. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Raven’s eyes widened slightly, her pulse quickening. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” Octavia shook her head, blinked slowly, her breaths becoming shallow.

Raven shut her eyes, bit her lip so hard she drew blood. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she grabbed Octavia’s head, placed it gently in her lap. Octavia reached up slowly, intertwined her fingers with her girlfriend’s, gave a pitiful squeeze. “Octavia,” Her voice was shattered.

The tan girl looked up at her, tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes and mixing with the little splatters of blood on her face. And she smiled. The asshole _smiled._ A hole was in her chest, blood was draining out of her, and she just quirked the sides of her lips up into a grin. Then she chuckled, a strangled, gargling sound that transformed into a fit of coughs full of crimson, and even still with blood trickling out of the sides of her mouth she continued to laugh.

Raven sharpened her gaze, pulled her girlfriend closer. “What’s so funny?” She questioned, not thinking that being in the middle of a battle field with the love of her life dying in her arms to be very comical.

Octavia shrugged a little and mumbled, “I just…you’re very beautiful.” Raven could have giggled if she weren’t so distraught. She slid her hands over Octavia’s face, wiped away as much blood as she could.

“You’re beautiful, too.” She whispered back, trying to keep her voice as composed as she could, but of course her attempts failed and it came out a shaking mess.

Octavia scoffed, coughed some more. “I have a hole in my chest.” Her bluntness caught Raven entirely off guard. She froze, her eyes wide, then leaned down and kissed Octavia firmly on the mouth, blood and tears mixing together to create a metallic salty taste in her mouth. It was awful, but Raven didn’t care because this was Octavia and Octavia was dying and she hated herself for it. “I can’t believe…” Her low voice trailed off, then her breaths started to quicken. Her face twisted in agony and her body started convulsing. There was nothing Raven could do except hold her.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Raven repeated in her ear, her voice breaking more and more with each word. Octavia didn’t say anything back; she didn’t have a chance to before her chest heaved one final time and then grew eerily still.

Raven kept her head on Octavia’s chest, and finally, with all of her being, sobbed loud and rough, her fingers curling into Octavia’s matted hair. She rocked back and forth, knowing full well that she needed to get out of the middle of the fighting zone, but also knowing that if she were to die right then and there that she would be fine.

She wondered what kind of God (or Gods, she didn’t fucking know who was running things—if any entity was running anything at all) she pissed off for her life to be like this. She wondered, with all her being what she did to deserve a life like this. To be given this beautiful thing, to have met this extraordinary person, only for all of it to be ripped away from her very fingertips. She wondered why.

_Why, why, why, why._

Why tease someone with something so radiant with the hope of forever, only to shatter it in front of them in an instant? Raven’s soul had been ripped in half right there on a field of blood and broken promises. She sobbed for all that had been torn away from her and she sobbed for all the possibilities that could never be. The beautiful woman, bright eyed and sly lipped, fierce and strong and brave and loyal to a fault, now an empty shell lying in her arms. Her lively body now cold, her pink lips now blue. Her spirit gone, her fire dead.

Suddenly someone was jerking her up, trying to pry her away from her dead heart. Raven’s arms tightened around Octavia’s lifeless body, making it harder to be pulled away. “Raven, we have to go.” It was Lincoln.

“I can’t leave her.” She shook her head furiously.

“Raven, we’re in the middle of a battle field.” His voice was urgent, insistent.

“I’m not leaving her!” She snapped, looking up at him with swollen eyes.

He bent down to her, grief and understanding in his expression. “Come on.” He sighed and then wrapped his arms around her small waist and tugging harshly.

The woman’s eyes widened as her fingers slipped from Octavia’s shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Moving you out of the warzone.” He said simply, hoisting her up over his shoulder.

“Put me down. Goddamn it, Lincoln, put me down!” She tried to maneuver herself out of his vice grip, but he was too strong and she was too exhausted. She fought him, wailing and flailing and pounding on his back, but he wouldn’t let go until they were out of the fight zone.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, when the war was over (won, according to everyone else—but everyone else could go _fuck_ themselves), Raven sat alone in her lab, staring blankly at the little circular piece of silver metal lying a few inches from her hand. It had been a wedding band, something simple yet thoughtful. Raven had welded it herself, even placed a little turquoise rock in the middle of it to make it more personal. She’d planned to propose to Octavia after the war, figured it would have been something positive after all the bloodshed. She knew they were young, but she also knew that in this world the young died early. She thought they were the exception; she knew they weren’t immortal, but when they were together, and having survived all the shit that they did, it felt like it. They could conquer the world if they tried hard enough.

But they weren’t immortal and they couldn’t conquer the world. Because Octavia was dead and Raven was alive but she wished she wasn’t. She wanted to be beside her, up there on the pyre that her wrapped body lay on, ready to be lit in the morning with the other fallen warriors. She wanted to turn to smoke and suffocate the sky and become ash and take over the dirt. _She wanted to be with Octavia,_ but that was impossible now.

 

* * *

 

 

The funeral wasn’t beautiful and she didn’t cry. She stood beside a broken Bellamy, her hand on his as they lit the younger woman’s pyre, watched her evaporate to smoke and rise into the sky. Blue butterflies started gathering around them, fluttering between the shattered woman and man, landing on their shoulders and heads. They looked at each other, smiled sadly, looked up at the sky, watched as the insects ascended with the grey smoke.

Raven would always remember her; the butterflies would never let her forget.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a problem with writing sad Octaven fics. Oops.


End file.
